


Demons

by lacemonster



Series: Lacemonster's Requests [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cock Slapping, Facials, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Break, Mindbreak, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Size Difference, Sloppy Seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: Severe content warning. Please read tags and notes before reading.Done as a request, posted with consent. A request for Tim being captured by The League of Assassins with a Tim x Mob x Ra’s angle.After thwarting one of Ra’s al Ghul’s missions in Kahndaq, Tim is captured and brought back to the League. Rather than kill him, Ra’s decides to punish and humiliate Tim instead. Tim has no idea what Ra’s has in store for him, all he knows is that he must survive if he ever hopes to return to Gotham.





	Demons

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is awful, terrible trash... but I love writing trash and I was stupidly proud of how this turned out. So with the kind generosity of my patron, I received permission to post this (while keeping the patron anonymous).
> 
> This is definitely a dark fic. Heavy emphasis on the rape/non-con elements of the fic. Humiliation is a huge part of this fic. Also some violent elements of orgasm control/denial, light cock and ball torture, spanking, heavy hitting/punching, etc.
> 
> Bottom line: this fic is very explicit so please read the tags carefully and enter at your own risk. I am not responsible for anyone who did not heed my warnings. Any upset comments will most likely be ignored and deleted.
> 
> I did lightly base this off of the Red Robin run. I’m not sure what age Tim was in that. I personally believed he was 18 or about to enter college, and he can easily be aged up in this fic since it’s never mentioned, so I didn’t tag it as underage.
> 
> For some fic context, this takes place during the timeframe where Tim is starting out as Red Robin and trying to prove that Bruce is alive. This takes place after Tim’s father died and he was adopted by Bruce Wayne. In this fic, the League removes Tim’s mask and is aware of his identity as Tim Drake-Wayne, the head of Wayne Enterprises and the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, but they don’t know that Bruce Wayne is Batman (except Ra’s knows, of course).
> 
> Anyways I hope y’all enjoy this. I definitely enjoyed writing this. Thank you, patron, for all your patience and support and in letting me post this. I definitely worked hard on this to make it special for you.

            Tim knew that he shouldn’t have been fighting back, but he was fairly certain that in a minute, he would be dead anyways, so he figured there was no harm in trying.

The men on his arms dragged him, kicking and flailing, down the hall. He had been behind these walls before and he knew exactly where he was heading. There was no relief in knowing what was to come. A panicked sort of dread began to push into his stomach as the shadows of the hall parted, the doors at the end coming into focus.

            _You can’t fight this_.

            Tim managed to rip an arm out of a captor’s grasp, but was quickly stopped by a hard punch to the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, the strength in him disappearing as he nearly stumbled to the floor—and he would have, if both men hadn’t caught him and pulled him along.

            _You can’t think your way out of this._

            He looked frantically around him for an opening. But all the while, he was brought closer to the door. The gilded figure on the wood began to grow, the details of the demon appearing from the shadows. Tim should have tried to escape sooner. He should have taken his chances in the van, instead of biding time for an opportunity that never came.

            _You should have listened to Dick. To Cassie. To Steph. You should have listened to all the people who cared about you and wanted you to not get yourself killed—_

            The men kicked open the demon doors with a loud _bang_ , pulling Tim into the room. In the flurry of moving body parts, Tim could see the masked faces that turned towards him, those shadowed eyes watching him carefully.

Tim had been in this room many times before, as an honored guest of sorts. Here, he had let the assassins pick at his brain. The cooperation was for survival, of course, and done in the hopes of finding evidence that Bruce was alive. Tim had never once felt welcome in this place. Not then, not now. Even in its comfortable size, intricate rugs, and colorful statues—it all felt so cold.

            By the time Tim was pulled before the gallery at the front of the room, he was exhausted and breathless. A strong hand pushed down on the top of his spine, no different than a master urging their dog to sit. When Tim did not kneel fast enough, one of the captors kicked his legs out from under him and he effectively fell into place.

            Through sweat-soaked bangs, Tim looked up at the head of the room where Ra’s al Ghul sat. Glowing green eyes flickered up at Tim, seeming almost indifferent. Ra’s didn’t speak right away, taking time to stir the drink set on the polished platter before him. Tim was unnerved by the silence, his anxiety threatening to choke him dead, so he spoke up—if only to hear the sound of anything but that clinking teaspoon.

            “I know you’re ticked off about me ruining your little arms operation in Kahndaq. I get it. But in my defense, you poisoned an entire city, so...”

His quip came out easily enough—but it took all his control to hide the shakiness in his voice.

            “I’m not angry, detective,” Ra’s said, not looking at him. He set his spoon down carefully. He leaned back in his chair, which was as ridiculously lavish as the rest of the room. “We’re not allies. Sometimes in order to accomplish your goals, you have to take risks. In the same way that you had to take a chance on working with me, I had to take a chance on you. So, really, there’s nothing to be angry about—because I _expected_ you to betray me. I’d almost be disappointed if you didn’t. It’s just the nature of the business.”

            “Right. The nature of killing people,” Tim said with a tightlipped smile. “So, what then? Are you going to kill me now? Torture me? Both? You could juggle me back and forth between an axe and the pit.”

            Ra’s face cracked out into an unexpected smile. It made Tim uncomfortable, his skin crawling in response, his mouth shutting tight. The craziest thing was that it appeared to be a _genuine_ smile. Tim was deeply bothered by the chance that they might share the same sense of humor. Ra’s finally got to his feet, taking his cup with him. His green robes slid across the steps as he went to meet him.

            “I told you already—I’m not angry. When you get to be my age, you learn that obstacles are forgettable.” Ra's eyed Tim challengingly, adding, “Besides, if my thoughts are correct, you’re not afraid of death.”

            Tim simply looked at Ra’s, untrusting. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the leader of assassins was going to spare his life.

            “You throw yourself in danger all the time. In these past few weeks, you’ve made deals with enemies, you’ve travelled into wild territory. You _are_ alone—or you’ve at least chosen to be. So why would death _frighten_ you?”

            Tim twinged at that, a low anger brewing inside his chest. Ra’s wasn’t trying to get to him—he spoke matter-of-factly, like a schoolteacher. But Tim was done with villainous speeches. He was done listening to Ra’s talk about all the dead and missing people in his life. He was done cooperating with him. The only thing that kept him on his knees with his mouth shut was the hope that someone was going to swoop in and fix his foolish mistakes. That any moment, Dick or Conner or, yes, even Bruce, would burst through those demon doors and save him at the last minute.

            It was wishful thinking, of course. Tim was too much of a realist to think that a grand rescue would actually happen, but a person couldn’t pretend to be a hero if they didn’t have any hope. If Tim couldn’t trust on being saved, he could at least hold onto the chance that someone in this room might fuck up long enough for him to escape.

            “Death doesn’t scare you, not really. You aren’t _driven_ by a fear of death.” Ra’s stopped before Tim, feet toeing on the edge of the rug that separated his territory from the rest of the hardwood room. Ra's looked down at Tim with this indiscernible expression, but something _had_ changed in his eyes. His voice lowered, almost soft. “No, detective. You don’t fear death. You fear _failure_. You’d sooner die than let down your family, your friends, your city, your heroes. You’d sooner go to the grave than ever accept that you let people down.”

            Tim’s heart started to beat faster. It wasn’t anger. It was fear. Those words struck him, filling him with dread—but also, self-loathing. He was reminded of the people he was letting down that very instant, by being caught.

            There was a very good chance that his last talk with Steph was going to be that argument. There was a very good chance that his last interaction with Dick was going to be them moving in opposite directions. And maybe the last time he was ever going to stand in a room with Conner, Cassie, and Bart was going to be nothing more than an image inside of his head before he was poisoned or burned alive or stabbed to death or shot pointblank.

            And if there was any chance that his suspicions were right, that Bruce was alive out there somewhere, Tim wasn’t going to be the one coming home with the news. He’d be dead and Bruce would be out there, lost in some unsolvable mystery, and who knows if Ra’s had the decency to send Tim’s body back home so he wouldn’t become a mystery too.

            Ra’s did have a point. What scared Tim most in that moment, or possibly ever, wasn’t dying. It was the ripple effect.

_Forgive me._

            “In that way, you and I are the same,” Ra’s said, in a tone that made it sound that simple and true. Tim snorted, his disbelief trumping his nerves.

            “You’re _immortal_ ,” Tim accused, struck by a mixture of indignance and incredulity, his chest rising up.

Ra's tilted his head back and forth thoughtfully.

            “But life and death have no meaning for me. When the time is proper, once I’ve secured my legacy, I will go without struggle.”

            Tim didn’t buy that.

            “‘Securing your legacy’. What did Talia and Damian think of that?”

            “Bumps in the road,” Ra’s said shortly. “Children can be replaced. Your late mentor knew that. I’m sure you, in particular, were aware of that.”

            Before Tim could make another remark, Ra’s suddenly turned his cup. Tim narrowly turned his face away in time, letting out a short cry, the sound biting down into a hiss. The hot drink was enough to burn but not scald, pouring down onto his head, spreading from his scalp and ears to his neck and shoulders to the floor. Tim breathed in sharply through his nostrils, the thick fragrance— _tea_ , Tim realized, and he might have laughed—invading his senses.

            Tim breathed out all at once, bearing through the pain, trying to ignore the heat on his skin, the drip of his hair. He peered his eyes open, catching the shadow that moved away from him.

            “I’m not going to kill you, detective. I’m going to remind you of your failure—and your first mistake was getting caught by my men,” Ra’s said, projecting his voice to the room.

            It took that booming voice to remind Tim of all the eyes on him. He looked up through his drenched bangs. Dark shadows stood throughout the room. The occasional glint of an eye peered back at him from behind a shadowed hoods or mask with eyeholes. Ra’s waved a hand toward one of his servants, who took the cup and tray to fetch him more tea. Another servant helped neatly lay his cape after he claimed his seat. There was no shortage of people in the room, even setting aside the men on Tim’s arms.

            Once Ra’s was seated, he looked directly at Tim and gave this soft, almost disappointed, sigh. He gestured across the room, pulling in three assassins who were standing near the wall.

            “You might know these men from Kahndaq, even if you don’t necessarily recognize their faces,” Ra's said. Tim looked at them. Tall, muscular, dressed in a uniform that Tim recognized. While most of the League of Assassins shared a uniform specialized in stealth, these men were dressed in the same military fashion as the soldiers in Kahndaq—the disguise used during a plan orchestrated by Ra’s. No, Tim didn't know their names or remember their faces, but he knew what they represented. “They were supposed to be safeguarding the warehouse you destroyed. You defeated them. Humiliated them. I spared them only so they could return the favor, to _share_ the same shame they felt with you.”

Tim's stomach dropped. He stayed on his knees, his heart beating loud, thrumming through his ears. He took one more look at the size of them and felt his hopes slipping away.

He wouldn't stand a chance. He knew that. But while he might not have feared death, he couldn't say the same about torture. When the men let go of his arms to trade places with the three assassins, he acted. He knocked a man out of his way, ducked under the staggered body, and fled for the doorway.

            Tim heard them moving in. Fast. Someone grabbed at his arm. Tim’s instincts screamed at him to not just run, but to fight—and so he did. He pulled his arm back. When his opponent tried to strike him, he dodged, letting the man collide into the body trying to sneak up behind him.

            Tim exchanged blows with another assassin and managed to slip away by dodging an overthrown punch. He did his best to execute every move perfectly, but didn't get much further than a few more feet towards the door before being knocked to the ground. It all happened so fast that he never even got to feel the flicker of _hope_. He hit the surface hard, pain shooting through his shoulder. He tried to push up off the floor but a body was weighed on top of him.

The weight increased. Tim felt the strains in his exhausted muscles give out. His knees dug into the hard floor. A body placed itself on his shoulders, shoving the upper half of his body to the ground. His cheek was smushed against the wood, some stray dust and dirt irritating his skin. His left arm was painfully crushed between his chest and the floor. Tim looked out of the corner of his eye, trying to see what the men above him were doing, but all he could catch were blurs of body parts.

            He felt hands on him. Hands everywhere, poking and prying and pulling at his clothes. A panic started to settle in. He felt claustrophobic, being pinned and surrounded by all these bodies. He breathed, his breath trapped between him and the floor, the air feeling hot. _Everything_ felt hot. He was crammed between all these bodies, he was sweaty and exhausted after hours of fighting and being dragged across borders, and his face was flushed with panic and strained effort. He was outmatched and still wanted to fight back, _truly_ , but he felt like some clumsy fawn being ripped apart by a pack of hungry wolves.

            He groaned, face still shoved uncomfortably into the hard floor, when the fabric on his back snapped against his body. Thick fingers managed to grip and pull at the seams, the fabric snagging with a loud rip. He felt hands—some gloved, some rough and bare—on his body, peeling the uniform past his shoulders, snapping at the belts and cape, tugging at his boots.

Heat rose to his face. He was already unmasked. If these men went any further, he'd be completely naked in front of all of these people. It was a frivolous thing to be concerned about, but it honestly humiliated Tim. Tim was a good fighter, but he relied on speed and tricks. Not once, in his entire time as Robin, had he ever felt big and strong—especially not when compared to the likes of Bruce and Dick, or Conner and Cassie. He felt dreadfully reminded of how small and weak he was. He was so weak, so miniscule, that he couldn't even lift off the body on top of him. These men were going to torture and kill him and even with all his years of training and hard work, he _couldn't_ fight back.

_Stupid. You should have never let yourself get caught._

            The body on his back lifted, momentarily releasing the pressure on Tim's body. Tim struggled against the men who moved him around like a puppet, forcing him into the arms of some guard. Tim took a breath, feeling instant relief from having the pressure on his face, arm, and chest taken away. But he was far from calm, especially when he caught the sight of flesh.

He saw it, out of the corner of his eye—

            One of the men, undressing.

            Tim was frozen in a dumbfounded sort of shock. He understood what was happening, yet he didn’t understand. His mind reeled, putting the pieces together. He knew Ra’s was a terrible man. He hadn’t been fooled that their time working together had meant anything. But this—this was _sick_ —

            The horrible realization set in. And Tim knew he was awful for thinking it, but maybe the reason that the shock set in was because he never imagined this would happen to _him_. How many creeps had he thrown in jail? How many rapists and perverts had he kicked in the face? No, no, this couldn’t be happening to him—this couldn’t happen to _his_ body—

            A hand wrenched tightly in his hair, pulling at the scalp. He was forcefully turned away from the undressing man, toward the person he had landed into. Tim’s nose was inches away from the hand that undid the fastenings, forced to watch yet another man undress before his eyes. He should have shut his eyes, but he was thinking so fast that it was almost like he wasn’t thinking at all. He stayed there, his mind firing off different cues— _fight, run, this isn’t happening, someone will save you, Dick will save you, Bruce will save you, Conner will save you, just do what they say, survive_ —

            The man pulled himself out of his pants. He was long and thick, swollen and flushed. Tim swallowed hard, feeling a wave of nausea at the realization that this man was already hard. All of them had planned this. They had planned and thought and wished and _longed_ for this. Tim imagined these men talking amongst themselves, imagined them plotting over his body, getting themselves excited over the idea of raping him— _that's what they're going to do, they’re going to rape you, they’re going to rape you and they're going to enjoy it and they're going to laugh at you_ —and his disgust was so strong that Tim could feel his entire skin crawl.

            He wasn’t sure who forcefully moved him closer to the man. There was a moment of movement around him, shifting body parts, hands that grabbed at him—it felt limitless. They all had a sameness to them, pieces of the machine, limbs of the same monster working in tandem for the sole purpose of harming him. And Tim knew what they wanted him to do as they shoved his face further into the lap of the beast, but some part of him—perhaps his defiance or his inability to grasp that _yes_ , this was happening, this was happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it—would not cooperate.

            But there was no patience for resistance. They yelled at him, barking at him to _open up_. Their knuckles and boots found their ways into his head, his back, his ribs, his thighs. Every blow rattled his bones, bruised his skin, made him _hurt_. Even so, he tried to endure. Tried to be strong. Tried to resist. Their striking made him clamp down harder, even though the pain from the hits began to throb throughout his body, groans muffled by his closed lips.

            _They’re going to kill you and it’s your fault. Dick’s going to mourn another family member and Cassie is going to bury her third teammate and you’re the one who made this happen, because you were stupid, because you didn’t listen, because you repeated all of Bruce’s selfish mistakes—_

            Someone pinched his nose, thick fingers digging into his face. He felt rough hands wrapped tightly around his throat, adding pressure. Tim’s heart was beating fast. He was going to have to comply or he’d suffocate. But the idea of it… what they were trying to get him to do… it made him grit his teeth that much more.

            He held his breath as long as he could, jaw aching from the force at which he kept his mouth closed. Fingers hooked under his lip. He did not budge. He was blinded by the hand over his nose and eyes, only hearing and feeling the frenzied movement around him, those bodies that grabbed at him and hurt him and cursed him. He still didn't budge.

            A new sort of fear washed over him. He couldn’t move at all. Paranoia sunk into him, worried for a moment that he was broken, paralyzed. The weight and strength of the bodies on top of him kept him pinned in place.  His throat was beginning to bruise, felt like it was going to crush and collapse, his lungs prickled under the strain of his held breath. When he finally, _finally_ caved—he didn’t take a breath so much as he sucked in as much air as he could.

            The relief to his lungs was shortlived. His captor crammed himself into his open mouth, shoving his way in and forcing Tim’s lips apart. Tim sputtered around the man's erection in surprise. The hand over his eyes and nose rolled back over his head, pushing back his bangs, slipping into his damp hair. His head was pinned in place, trapped between hands like he was caught in a vice. The man wasted no time moving, hips stuttering forward eagerly. Tim caught a brief glimpse of the man's body, the scars and thick hair moving in and out of focus as he slid repeatedly into Tim’s mouth, and Tim squeezed his eyes shut.

            _They thought about this. They planned this._

No. Stop thinking about that.

Tim could feel the heat of the man inside his mouth, hot and full on his tongue, his girth stretching his mouth wide open. Tim kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see the man who was raping his mouth, but the intensity of the sounds only made him that much more ashamed and disgusted. He could hear the man, grunting like an animal as he fucked his face. Worse, Tim could hear himself. He hardly believed that the gagging, the wet sputtering and choking, could be him.

_You should have listened._

Tim tried to block it out, tried to endure. But he heard a rip in the air, his eyes opening in surprise. He couldn't turn his head to see what was happening, he was forced to face forward as this man fucked his mouth. Even so, he knew—it was his clothing. The men were back at it again, tearing apart his uniform— _the uniform you put together, the one you made behind Batman's back as you went off on this stupid mission, when you ignored everyone's warnings and got yourself caught and now it's being torn to shreds because you were an idiot and thought you could handle this alone_ —and pulling it off his body in pieces.

And Tim knew, just as well as he knew what was happening when this man exposed himself before his face. But a strong sense of denial and horror washed over him anyways. His heart rate picked up, this desperate fear clawing inside his chest, panic rattling his brain.

_No—_

He knew it was going to happen. He knew there was nothing he could do to fight back against these trained murderers who pinned his head, his arms, his waist—but he still couldn't ease his drumming heartbeat, the drop in his stomach. He could barely endure his mouth being fucked—barely able to breathe, lips stretched wide around the man’s girth, balls clapping against his chin as the man moved at an unforgiving pace. He felt their hands on his exposed thighs, his ass. His face burned hot as they grabbed him, forcefully spreading him open, seeing _everything—_

_No no no no—_

He felt something on his lower half—something pouring over his skin, something wet but thick and warm and soft and deceptively soothing. It dripped over his body, down the crease of his ass, and Tim _knew_.

_They planned this. They got together and they talked about how they were going to rape you._

It woke him up again. He had to fight back. He felt the cock inside his mouth prod his throat once more, then he clamped down.

He was treated with sharp hiss and a full backhand across his face. The impact was so intense that Tim saw stars. He felt a crack in his neck as his face shot to the side, his cheek already swelling. He was yanked by the hair, forced in the direction of the man. The man's face focused in and out, flashes of red and black spotting across Tim's vision, and Tim knew that he was looking into the face of an angry man who wanted to strike him again, but he saw nothing but a blur.

“Turn him this way.”

_Ra's_ , Tim's rattled brain managed to piece together. The command saved Tim from being slapped a second time, but Tim was far from thankful. He was slowly being pulled out of his daze, Ra’s coming into focus. Ra's still sat in his chair, seemingly unfazed by Tim's treatment, only a dull sense of thought in his eyes. Even so, Tim felt a quiet rage ignite inside of his chest. Ra’s only wanted to see Tim's battered face. It gave him that thrill of superiority.

Ra's reached on the table next to his chair, handing off a box to a servant, and as if the whole thing was staged and choreographed, the servant was already walking toward Tim.

“I sent one of my people to your home to do some investigating.”

Tim didn't know what was happening when the servant knelt a few feet away. He stayed there, trapped between bodies, simply watching and trying to even out his breath and racing heartbeat. The servant tilted the box just enough for Tim to see the contents without it tipping over. As if revealing a secret treasure, the servant flipped open the top.

It took a moment for Tim to register what he was seeing. When it sunk in, a strong heat rose to his face. If anything that night had humiliated him, this was by far the worst. Worse than the shame of being caught, worse than the way he was treated like an object by these men, worse than the way he was treated as entertainment for Ra's and his party—this one stung because it was personal. They had broken into his home, uncovered his secrets, and now they were going to expose those secrets.

Tim couldn't look at it for long, his gaze focusing beyond it, staring into space. He could hear soft laughter from the men around him. He could feel the humiliation sinking deeper, rotting inside of him, and Tim suddenly wished that Ra's had given him the axe. And between the shame and the exhaustion of getting smacked around, Tim's fight seemed completely drained out of him. He felt so sick with shame and self-hatred.

“What’s with the sudden silence, swine?” a voice suddenly growled. Tim felt a boot push him, rough but not as painful as earlier blows. They were just trying to get a reaction out of him. “Aren’t you going to show us how you use it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ra’s said, an edge to his voice. Ra’s did prefer his underlings silent, which was probably the only reason why Tim’s verbal treatment hadn’t been worse up until this point. Ra’s was quick to put them back in place. “You’ll use it on him, whether he cooperates or not.”

Tim bit down on his tongue. It was taking a certain level of composure to fight back the burning in his eyes. Whether he cooperated or not, he saw no way out of this. When the men dragged him across the floor, closer to the man who had taken the toy, Tim went with no sense of cooperation or rebellion. He just went. His body was too weak to react in either way.

He could feel their hands spreading his ass. Although his crease was slick with lubricant, a man spit at him, and Tim felt a twinge of disgust. He felt low, lower than dirt. They pulled him up by the hips, forcing his ass in the air. Tim could feel the lube sliding down his crease, down to his balls. His chest clenched at the shame, the humiliation of being so exposed sinking in.

Even after being talked down by Ra’s, the men were not done teasing him. They absolutely relished the idea of this young hero fucking himself in his own privacy, so much so that they couldn’t shut up about it.

“Hopefully you have bigger ones at home,” one of them had said, stroking his comparably large cock. Tim averted his gaze, not wanting to think about this man’s intentions, but knowing all the same.

“Did Bruce Wayne buy you this?” said the voice from behind him, rubbing the head of the dildo— _his_ dildo—across his entrance. Tim’s brow furrowed, not at the jab of his late adoptive father— _they’re just words, don’t think about him, don’t think about Batman_ —but by the teasing touch against his sensitive skin. His body had been taught and trained to enjoy that feeling—it was too difficult for Tim to ignore, as much as he wanted to. He held his breath, not wanting to make a single sound that might tip these perverts off that he enjoyed the feeling of the dildo.

“Maybe Batman bought it for him,” another one said with a laugh.

No one had bought it for him. He had bought it for himself. It was a quiet, secret indulgence that he never shared with anyone. And now this whole room knew. His worst enemies knew. And maybe the only reason why any of this was happening to him was because they wanted to exploit that. They had broken into his home and uncovered all his secrets and now they were going to rape him with the one thing, this one object, that gave him any type of escape from the hells in his life.

All of this was orchestrated at Ra’s. But Tim couldn’t even aim his hatred toward him.

“Shut up,” Tim said, but his voice was nothing more than a whisper, and if anyone heard, no one cared. They didn’t care at all.

Tim closed his eyes when the toy finally started to press in. It had been awhile since Tim used it—he grunted as it entered him, sliding in out of sheer force by the user’s hand. The movement was far from comfortable. Tim knew where the base was. It hadn’t reached that point, and yet Tim felt full, so full. Every inch that was inside of him felt crammed inside. The toy curved toward his stomach, feeling awkward and hitting all the wrong areas.

The dildo pulled out to the tip and was shoved back in just as quickly, a little deeper this time. Tim’s hands tightened into fists. It all felt wrong. It was wrong, wrong. All of this was being done for his captors’ own pleasure. They fucked him because it was fun to them, something to laugh at or maybe get off to, they did it because Ra’s told them to do it. They didn’t care how it felt, ramming him with this object for the pure purpose of eliciting a reaction and nothing more. They watched with perverse gazes as they shoved the toy in and out of him, taking turns and laughing to themselves at the feeling. Tim laid there, head hung low, as he was fucked and fucked and fucked. He felt sick. He felt angry. He felt sad.

He didn’t enjoy any of it. The dildo was nothing more than a device ramming into him, stretching him out, forcing in and in and in.

It was especially uncomfortable when they moved fast. Tim writhed, gritting his teeth as they began to thrust faster and faster into him. He would never go this fast on his own. When he groaned, they mistook it for arousal. They laughed and did it again, their hands working fast. He felt the toy rubbing up inside of him at breakneck speed, the lube helping guide it in and making filthy sounds all the while. It felt gross, uncomfortable, even painful.

He couldn’t stop writhing, squirming. His knees ached as they moved across the hard ground. When his moving became too much, they forcefully held him in place. When he groaned again, someone decided to _shut him up_ and stick their cock in his mouth. Tim stirred in place, his ass brutally fucked and his mouth stuffed with cock. He groaned repeatedly, the sound muffled.

Tim felt trapped between the men, both his mouth and ass filled. He wasn’t sure which to lean toward. When the cock in his mouth started to hit the back of his throat, he pulled back, the toy sinking deeper inside of him. As he focused on breathing and not choking, the discomfort of the dildo lodged inside of him became less noticeable. The thrusting felt normal.

HIs mouth was still sore from before. It didn’t take long before he felt the familiar ache in his jaw and the corners of his mouth. The man fucked his mouth, groin bumping up against Tim’s nose and chin. All the while, the toy had transitioned to what felt like a comfortable, bearable speed.

The toy bumped up against Tim’s prostate. Tim flinched but didn’t focus on it—it was just a quick touch, nothing more. It was inevitable and he couldn’t fight back. It was the toy he was reacting to, not these men. He knew that. He knew that. But the shame of his secret had left him feeling disgusted with himself, like he was some sort of filthy, wanton creature.

_You’re a pervert that gets off on fucking yourself and they know that. They’re only giving you what you deserve._

There was a soft, almost exasperated sigh. Ra’s seemed as disappointed as a director with an amateur cast.

“Fuck him deeper,” Ra’s said. His voice seemed a touch darker, more demanding. There was a brief cessation where even the men, who had been laughing a moment ago, went silent and still until the power of his command.

Tim, knowing what was about to happen, instinctively tensed. The man in his mouth, momentarily frozen by his master’s command, had paused long enough to give Tim a moment to breathe. The one behind him, however, was quicker to act to the command. Tim groaned, his voice muffled, as the dildo pushed deeper into him. His toy wasn’t very big, but in that moment, as it was forcefully buried inside, it felt big. Tears burned at the corners of Tim’s eyes, his chest feeling tight.

The movement of the toy stuttered then sunk the rest of the way, sliding into him in a fluid motion, as if it was perfectly fitted to his insides. When Tim felt it buried inside, all the way down to the base, he couldn't resist the gasp and groan that followed. A strong shudder ran down his spine and one of the men grabbed him harder, as if expecting that he was moving to run.

Every single inch of the dildo was buried deep inside of Tim. This entire room bore witness to it.

And the worst of it was, even now, he _liked_ it. He liked the familiarity of the shape inside of him, that simple self-indulgence that got him through hard days and nights. Liked the comfort of being filled, of feeling good, after hard missions where his body and mind was demanded by everyone but him. Unintentionally, Tim had trained himself for situations like this, to find the pleasure after his body was beat up and exhausted.

He hated Ra's for this. Hated everyone, but Ra's especially, because he had to have known how much this betrayal of his own body would hurt. It was just one thing, one stupid thing, that Tim had for himself—and Ra's had tainted that.

Tim, who had been fighting back tears, suddenly felt his face grow hot, his eyes brimming. Frustration twisted inside of him. He didn’t even feel sad. He was just so angry and helpless and uncomfortable, his face and ears burning in his defeat. His body felt like some filthy thing that wasn't meant to be a part of him. He felt betrayed by the pleasure he felt from that familiar curve of the toy. He wanted this to be over with. He wanted out.

The men took a sick enjoyment out of watching the toy inside of him. Hands spread his ass open, trying to get a better look as they thrusted the dildo inside of him. Tim twinged and flinched at the movements. They were jerky, unrefined. He was used to his own control of the pace, that perfect blend of rhythm and pressure that made him see stars. Now, his body was at the hands of these monsters, who moved clumsily and forcefully.

Tim groaned deep, eyes closing as someone took the toy and began to ram it into him, deep and hard and fast. It felt intense and uncomfortable. They wouldn't let up, the toy fucking him deep, pulling in and out, over and over. Tim could hear the filthy, wet sounds of the lubricant. He squirmed uncomfortably in the grasp of the men, trying to get away, trying to at least get in a better angle where it didn't feel so awful.

“Was that a gift, detective?”

Ra’s, trying to join in on his men’s fun from earlier.

_Ignore him. Don't let him get to you_.

Tim could feel his body growing used to the size of the toy, if not the handling. Whether he was willing or not, his body started to relax. Tim heard something ringing in his ear—a belt buckle, he realized, follow by a zip.

“Give me a turn.”

“He bites,” Tim heard his captor warn as he finally pulled out of his mouth.

“He won’t bite again. If he does, I’ll fuck what’s left of his skull.” The man’s voice raised. “You hear that, bitch? Suck my dick good or I’ll dump your used, dead body on your rich foster daddy’s doorstep.”

Tim could feel the wetness on the corners of his eyes. His body quivered from the unwillingness to let tears fall. He had long blocked out the stinging from his cheek from when he'd been backhanded—but they were right. He had already been disgraced. There was no point in fighting at this point. He wouldn't be easy to comply, he'd never be willing, but he at least wouldn't bite. He just needed to block this all out. He needed to disappear.

Tim didn't fight when another cock slipped past his lips. Already, the dull aches in his jaw were beginning to flare up again. The man above him groaned deeply, shoving his cock in deeper with a sharp thrust. Tim winced in response. The man pushed hard, burying his cock in as deep as it could go, and Tim tried to block out the burning in the back of his throat as the man held his cock there.

Tim’s nose was buried deeply in the hair. He smelled nothing but sweat and sex. He could feel the man on his tongue. Hands wrapped painfully into his hair. The man rolled his hips, grinding his cock deeper inside. Tim gagged, face hot as he choked.

All the while, the toy moved inside of him. Sometimes moving fast. Sometimes slow. Tim imagined the other two men were alternating between jerking off and fucking him with the toy. They idly touched him, squeezing and grabbing and stroking his body. Tim flinched when a man reached around him, pulling at his nipple, which earned a few amused chuckles. They pinched at his nipples again, rolling them in their fingers. Tim moaned around the thick cock in his mouth. His body tensed up when the fingers grabbed a little too hard, a shock running down his spine, and he clenched up around the toy inside of him.

Tim’s jerked in surprise when he felt the toy angle uncomfortably. He suddenly realized that something was pushing into him. The men—one of them had to have been sticking their fingers inside. He had already taken the toy to the hilt, he knew from experience that it wasn’t this thick. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt the finger move in a different direction as the toy. Tim whimpered around the cock in his mouth, unsure if he could take more. He had never been stretched out this far. They handled him roughly, without patience. He needed it to stop.

The men continued on, fucking his mouth, teasing his chest, rubbing their cocks against his flesh, fingering his ass with a toy already buried inside of him.

“Open up, slut,” one said, slapping his ass hard. Tim trembled, the skin prickling hot underneath the mark. The fingers and toy hurt. “We know you want the real thing.”

Tim’s nerves were beginning to rise again. He could feel his stomach fluttering, his heart racing. He didn’t want it, at least not from them. But part of him worried at their words, especially as his cock twitched between his legs. Now that his ass had loosened up, the thrusting from the toy was starting to feel good. Despite his wave of fear, his body was responding to his nipples and ass being played with. He was scared that the men could sense this, that they were taking his body’s signs of arousal as reason to fuck him more.

Tim felt another smack on his ass, followed by laughter. They were shoving another finger inside of him. At this point, Tim's ass burned from the strain of being so filled. But with the fingers holding him open on either side, the dildo seemed to slide in at a different angle. The pressure felt more intense somehow. Whoever was holding it was fucking him at an even rhythm. Tim unwittingly moaned, feeling his cock between his legs swell.

He hated it but it felt so good. The toy kept brushing up against his prostate, lacing his humiliation with pleasure. Tim felt heat rush through his body, his cock getting hard, slowly growing in size.

_No, stop_ —

Tim felt a desperate panic take over him. He drew his knees closer together, trying to conceal his erection. His heart was beating fast with fear—they couldn't know that he enjoyed this. He couldn't give them that. But of course, someone noticed it.

“The little slut is getting off on this,” one of them murmured.

“Of course. He likes getting fucked,” said the man fucking him with the toy.

They forcefully spread his legs further apart. A hand lightly swatted at Tim's cock, making him flinch with more surprise than pain. His face burned hot. He could hear them talking amongst themselves, laughing.

Noticing, Ra's announced to the room, “Enjoying yourself, detective?”

Those words seemed to give the men permission to relish in Tim’s defeat. The energy in the room seemed to swell with excitement all at once. A hand reached underneath Tim, wrapping around his cock. The hand was rough but large and warm. The pressure and touch on Tim's cock felt nicer than it had any right to. A moan betrayed Tim, his mouth muffled around the cock in his mouth, but audible nonetheless. The men seemed to be fishing for more reactions out of Tim, their hands roaming over his body. Tim felt hands sliding up his sides, over to his ribcage, to his chest. Thick fingers teased and pulled at his nipples. Other hands grabbed and massaged his ass.

“Moments ago, you tried to fight and run. But there's no denying what your body wants, is there?”

Tim hated it. He hated the words Ra's fed into his brain, hated the hands on his body—but against his will, he responded to it. He could feel his cock pushing against the palm of the man holding him. The hand felt so warm, a kindling of relief in an otherwise terrifying situation. He wanted more of it, more friction. Even his nipples and his ass—the men were being so rough, likely trying to get him to whine or squeal or thrash around, but even that felt good. The toy rammed into him as these men groped and touched him. The occasional groan crept up his throat, as hard as he tried to just focus on the man pistoning in and out of his mouth.

“It's high time you relinquished your control.” Ra’s voice seemed to be everywhere at once, filling Tim’s head. Tim could feel the warm amusement in his voice—that sweet victory. “You may have bested my men, but they'll remind you of your place. You're clever, but weak. You have neither the power or experience that I have. You're nothing. You have accomplished nothing. Your only use will be to serve my men.” Ra's suddenly spoke sharply, “Fuck him already.”

The toy was pulled out of Tim at once. Tim glanced out of his peripherals. The toy had been unceremoniously tossed aside. The man between his legs was now unzipping his pants, pulling out his erect cock.

Tim jerked away with strong force. They quickly grabbed onto him, their hands digging into his body. The man, fully erect, grabbed him by the calves, keeping his knees planted on the ground. Tim had never felt so small, the hands easily wrapping around him, the hulk of the man shadowing over him. The size of his erection was much thicker and longer than the toy, pulsing hot, pointing with the desire to rape him. Tim was terrified. It was going to hurt. What if they broke him?

The man spat into his hand, lining himself up with Tim's entrance. Tim struggled against the bodies that held him down, his muscles burning and aching. He was already out of breath.

The man eventually pushed the head of his cock in. Tim's stomach dropped with fear. Oh god, it was going in. The man pushed further into him, stretching Tim out. Tim's lips parted, his breath quickening, heart racing.

“Stop, stop—"Tim demanded. Someone shoved his head against the ground, to get him to shut up, but Tim wasn't stopping. Half of the cock was inside of him, searing hot and stretching him painfully. He cried out. “It doesn't feel right—”

“Shut the fuck up,” the man over him growled. He jerked his hips forward and Tim yelled out, several inches sinking into his tight hole all at once. The toy and lube had barely prepared him for this moment. Tim had never felt so full in his life.

The man grabbed Tim by the hips, thick fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh. The man readjusted himself, trying to get in a better position, and then he shoved the rest of the way in, sliding in all at once. Tim cried out, his voice raw, his throat sore from the protests and abuse. He groaned deep, hands folding into fists. He could feel every hot inch inside of him, splitting him open and stretching him wide, wider than he’d ever been stretched. And there was a distant thought in the back of his mind, the horror and grief mixed around the realization that this stranger was the first person who’d ever been inside of him, but he was too focused on the ache and discomfort to take the time to care.

Rough hands took hold of him, steadying him from thrashing around too far. The man shoved himself in impossibly deeper, grinding deep inside, balls pressed against his ass. It didn’t hurt when he did that, not entirely, but mentally, it felt wrong. Tim wanted the man gone. He wanted to reject him from his body. But the man had entered him against his will and something about Tim felt lessened by that.

The thrusting began—short, hard thrusts. The sound of the lubricant and their bodies colliding sounded off in the air. Tim closed his eyes but couldn’t escape the sound of the people around him—their ragged breaths, the clapping of the man’s balls against his ass as he shoved himself in, over and over.

_Don’t listen. Don’t look at me._

It was rough, at first. But with every thrust, it seemed to grow easier. Not better. Just easier. The struggle that it took for the man to bury his entire cock inside of Tim had now seemed to vanish. With every rocking of their hips, the man seemed to carve out a place inside of Tim, each thrust growing harder and faster.

Tim’s head was turned. He expected someone to shove their way inside his throat again, but they simply held him in place. When Tim’s eyes opened, he could see one of them masturbating. Tim recognized the way the hand moved, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he moved his wrist quicker. With a low groan sounding off in his ear, Tim knew.

_No, don’t, no—_

The man was grunting and moaning. Apparently, Tim getting split open had excited him, the head of his cock glistening with precum. Tim wanted to turn away but the man fucking his ass was picking up rhythm now, his hard thrusts rocking Tim against the hard ground, keeping him forced on his hands and knees with no hopes of rising. Tim could hear the man’s breath quickening and all Tim could do was turn his face away the best he could, eyes closing.

He couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t escape, but he hated himself for letting it happen anyways. His chest twisted with shame and self-hatred when the man finally finished with a deep, guttural moan, releasing himself on Tim’s cheek. The hot, thick spurts landed on Tim’s face, luckily avoiding his eyes and lips. Tim felt a strong wave of disgust, wanting to at least clean off his face, and feeling so defeated that he could not.

“That look suits you,” Ra’s said, which gave permission for the men above Tim to jeer in amusement.

Tim waited for the surge of anger—that drive of fight and fury to yell back, but it never came. He couldn’t shake off the eyes watching him. He couldn’t help but imagine himself, small as a weak animal, bruised and filthy. If he had seen himself, he might have been even more disgusted. He could feel the harsh judgment and mockery of every person in that room and the worst part was, it felt justified. Being watched was terrifying and hurtful. He had never been the center of attention, had gotten through most of his life being invisible. He wished he could disappear in that moment. He wished everything would just go away.

_Don’t look at me. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this—_

Someone grabbed Tim by the hair. Tim was barely prepared when the cock slipped past his lips, stabbing at his throat. He choked. His mouth and jaw were already aching. At this point, Tim just didn’t want to add tension to his sore jaw, so he didn’t fight or resist. He relaxed his mouth, doing nothing, as the man fucked his face. He tried to relax but the man plowing his ass was picking up speed, his heavy grunts punching through Tim’s ears. It was difficult for Tim to concentrate on where he was, who he was, what he should do. He was just simply _there_ , no different than a puppet being moved and manipulated, thoughtless and strung along. All Tim cared about were the aches and pains in his body, so uncomfortable that he couldn’t even focus on the degradation of his body.

_It’s almost over_. That was his only thought. Over and over he told himself that, the only distant hope that he still carried inside of him.

He was sure of it. With every steadfast, forceful way he was fucked—he was sure of it. The groans he heard and the furious way he was facefucked were all the buildup to the ending. There was relief in that, as fucked up as it was. As fucked up as it was for him to pray for these men to finish—inside him, on him—he wanted it. He wanted it to be over, no matter how terrible the ending.

He could feel the man inside of him swelling. His thick cock moved in shorter, quicker, harder thrusts. It moved into him, building up friction, and Tim felt an unexpected warmth in his lower belly. Tim blocked it out. Just block it out. It was only for a moment, he reminded himself. He was still stirred up from the familiarity of the toy they had used to prep him. Just block it out.

They finished relatively close. Tim’s ass was filled up first, the sound of a breath hitching as the first thick, hot spurt was unloaded into Tim. Tim’s face burned hot, feeling the thick, warm seed coating his insides. _No, no, no._ The man thrusted a few times more, shoving the ejaculate deeper inside of Tim, moving it around. Tim never felt so filthy. The sensation was new and uncomfortable and strange—but Tim tried to block it out. He might have failed if the man in his mouth wasn’t fucking him so deep that he could choke, finishing unexpectedly. Tim nearly gagged but acted fast, swallowing and swallowing. He could feel the hot seed sliding down his throat, only catching a taste as the man pulled off his tongue.

The man in his ass pulled out too. Tim’s whole body was shaking. It wasn’t just the fire in his muscles, barely able to keep him propped up. Something inside of Tim changed. He felt this wave of emotion in his body, his eyes burning hot. He wanted to disappear. Disappear. But all he felt was the present moment—the bitter taste lingering on his tongue, the smell of sweat and sex in the air, the tender bruises, the evening of his frantic heartbeat, the hot ejaculate that slid from his hole down his crease to his thighs.

Tim took a shuddery breath. His knees and arms finally buckled, and he let himself slump to the floor. He tried to catch his breath, ignoring the way his body was hot with sweat and sticky with cum. He was naked, defiled, humiliated. But it was over, at least for now. His body ached with cuts and bruises, muscles tense with exhaustion, but he survived.

He couldn’t even bring himself to ask, _now what?_ He knew Ra’s wasn’t done with him, even before he heard the man moving on the steps. Tim managed to roll onto his side, daring to look at the shadow that lingered near his—not quite touching, but close. Ra’s stood at a distance, looking down on him.

“My poor boy,” Ra’s said, the first to break the ice. Tim just felt tired, unable to even summon up the hate for the villain’s chiding tone. “You want to grow up so fast. You want to be like your mentors. I wish that could have been the case, maybe then you could have been part of my legacy, a worthy replacement for Batman. But those dreams are dead, the same as everything else that dies.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Tim managed weakly, lips murmuring.

“I wonder what he would think now, his protege laying on my floor. It speaks to the entire Batman legacy, doesn’t it? You, soiled and wrecked, and me, standing at the end of it all. You had potential, young detective. But in the end, you’re nothing but a hole for my men.” Ra’s suddenly tore his gaze away, lifting his head to the rest of the room. “Does anyone else want to make use of this harlot before I toss him away?”

At that, Tim’s heartbeat picked up again.

Adrenaline rushed through Tim, enough to prop himself up with one arm. Already, he could hear footsteps. He looked, catching the guards from earlier who had come to claim their piece. His eyes moved across the room. Emboldened by the other men, a few seemed to come out of the crowd.

No.

No.

Not again.

“Don't do this,” Tim said, the words slipping past his lips before he realized it. And his eyes closed for a moment, in disbelief that he had accidentally _pleaded_ , but what else could he have done? When Tim reopened his eyes to look directly at Ra's, he saw something curious in that gaze.

Some life had sparked back in there, and Tim felt this slow horror wash over him.

Ra's enjoyed Tim begging.

It didn't matter what happened to Tim's body—that was repayment, revenge, for the men Tim had humiliated in Kahndaq—but as for Tim's mind, his crushed pride and humiliation, _that_ was for Ra's.

And Ra's absolutely delighted in his pain.

Tim couldn't fight, but he couldn't beg either. And Tim, for all his broken pride, couldn’t bring himself to participate. He simply stayed in place, and when the first person of the new crowd grabbed at him, he almost didn't react.

Tim grabbed at the hand and stopped mid-motion. He had looked around the room, eyeing all the undressing men with wide-eyed shock. Tim realized that there were more of them than he recalled. A frenzy of bodies and flesh, worked up from watching Tim get raped, now excited and turned on and ready to use him. Many of them were already hard. The fear inside of him was suddenly frantic, dialling up from defeat to sheer panic.

“No, stop—”

He couldn't go through it again. He thought he could, but no. Not again. Not with all these people. There were more bodies than he could keep track of, all of them moving and looking at him and undressing and looking at him and masturbating and looking at him.

He was forcefully pulled off the ground, on his knees. A man hurriedly pulled himself out of his fly, fishing out his hard cock.  He shoved his way into Tim's mouth, fucking deep into his mouth.

Another grabbed at Tim's hand, rolling it over his erection. Tim felt his cock, his balls, the hair over his groin. The man sighed softly and gave a low chuckle.

“He has a woman's hands,” he said, and a few others laughed too. Others were encouraged, another one forcing Tim to grab his erection.

The way Tim was frantically mouth-fucked left his mouth and lips too wet. He could hear the sounds of his face getting fucked filling the room. When he was pulled off by someone impatient for their turn, a trail of saliva followed him to the next.

Tim was led around mindlessly as these men made use of his hands and mouth. He jolted in surprise when a hand smacked his ass. His face burned with humiliation when he felt seed inside of him drip down his thighs, his humiliation growing when the men noticed and laughed. He was spanked again, likely trying to get the same reaction. No such reaction, but the mark on Tim's ass stung with pain.

Tim gasped in surprise, the sound muffled by the cock in his mouth, when he felt something touch against his sensitive, sore hole. Fingers, he realized, buried the way inside of him. He groaned when they started pounding into him fast, fast. He could feel the seed inside of him moving around, the fingers fucking into him fast. Something about the angle made Tim’s cock twitch. He could feel dull arousal working its way back into his body.

Tim tried to resist, a whimper sitting at the back of his throat. The men continued to fuck his mouth and hands. Some of them rubbed their dicks on his face and body, all eager to enter him. The fingers kept working fast, pounding at his prostate. Pleasure was suddenly flooding into him fast. He squirmed on his knees, resisting the urge to push back on those fingers. But it was difficult. Difficult to resist when those fingers brought respite to what was otherwise just hurt and misery.

The fingers pulled out of him and just as fast, his hips were yanked bank, his knees scooting painfully across the hard ground. Tim didn’t even bother trying to look behind him. He nearly whined as he was entered again. A man had kneeled behind him, his cock easily pushing up into Tim, cum and lube guiding the way in. The heat was intense and Tim felt electricity go up his spine. His ass was sore and sensitive from the toy and brutal fucking. Something about the cock inside him now felt good—he was no longer vice tight and resistant. His body could handle the discomfort. Worse still, it was so used to being filled that it felt stranger without something inside of him.

This terrified Tim.

The cock inside his ass was angled upwards. Tim’s hips were rocked back and forth. Knees weak, he was practically resting his weight on the legs of the man kneeling behind him.

Tim was guided by his hips, his body forcefully pulled back and forth on the man’s cock. Tim couldn’t focus on his other movements—and stopped at the realization that he shouldn’t be worried about that. He was so lost in the moment that his body had instinctively cooperated, holding onto the men who were thrusting into his hands and mouth.

Tim was lifted up and down on the cock in his ass, his thighs aching from being spread apart, knees rubbed red from being rocked so many times on the ground. Tim’s newly freed hands only reached for the man in front of him, placed on large, muscular thighs for balance. The man’s cock pushed into Tim’s mouth as payment.

Tim’s voice was muffled by the dick in his mouth. He was thankful for that. Every time Tim’s ass fell back on that cock, he could feel it digging deep inside of him, stabbing him with pleasure over and over. He felt his legs being spread wide, his growing erection swinging between his legs.

“Your pussy's still tight,” the man fucking into him groaned.

Tim tried to block it out but the men had plenty to say.

“Fuck him harder.”

“Hurry up with his mouth.”

Tim was losing track. Losing focus. There was so much happening around him that he could never focus on one thing. His body started moving on its own, instinctively servicing the men's cocks.

He had reached the point where he no longer had the energy to fight and beg. He stayed there on his knees, hands weakly wrapped around the hips of the man that fucked his mouth. It was at this moment that he dully realized that he was moving his head in tune with the man’s rhythm, instinct taking over. He looked up weakly at the man, who laughed when they made eye contact.

“That's a good bitch,” he said, thumb smearing the seed on his cheek. Something about those cruel words struck Tim, and he couldn't hold back the pathetic whimper.

There seemed to be no end to them. No mercy. They grabbed at his hands, pulling them along their cocks. He could feel them slide against his palms. A man desperately jerked himself off using Tim's hand, groaning in deep, elongated moans. Another man used Tim’s chest, idly rubbing his cock along Tim's flesh, the head brushing up against Tim's sensitive nipples. Tim jerked in response but was too weak to go anywhere.

The first man of the new group climaxed. He seemed to have come out of nowhere, groaning and jerking off, his hot seed landing on Tim's shoulder and back. This seemed to have excited the man inside of Tim, who suddenly started to breathe heavily. He rutted inside of Tim, cock digging into Tim so deeply that Tim groaned, the friction feeling hot and intense.

It felt good, but Tim couldn't enjoy it, not when he knew what was going to follow. His eyes squeezed shut, a wave of disgust rushing through him. He listened to the man's final animal grunts, hips rolling and grinding, trying to dump in as much seed as possible. Tim could feel the cock moving inside of him, spreading the seed. Could hear it moving.

The man pulled out. The two loads inside of Tim felt so thick, so full. Tim felt so gross and filthy that he could feel what was left of his pride crumbling, his heart clenching.

Two men had finished. But Tim had no clue how many more it would take.

Tim yelped in surprise when he was dragged across the floor towards some man’s lap. Tim barely moved along, legs dragging and stumbling across the floor. Tim felt his back pressed against a warm body, still clothed. Some of the men didn’t even bother to unddress, content to simply unzip and pull out their cocks.

Tim looked down, saw the man positioning his cock. Tim took one look at the hard, flushed erection and realized that he wanted it. His body felt so empty and disgusting without a cock inside of him. As much as hated it, he needed it inside of him, filling him back up, fucking into him. Needed something to distract him from all the pain and strife.

He moaned when he felt it slide in. The man wasted no time. Tim could feel the restless, pent-up energy of the man through each of his thrusts.

When the cock slammed in deep, Tim cried out. The men were surprised by this, but seemed to relish in it. They laughed, commenting on his high voice. The man underneath Tim spanked him on the hip, thrusting up into him, trying to get Tim to move.

Tim didn't want to move, but a harder smack and a growl got him moving. Tim pushed back on the cock fucking up into him and felt his eyes roll back. It had no business feeling good. None at all. He could hear the man’s cock thrusting into his sloppy, used hole, and it made Tim's dick hard. He became aware of how thick and hot the cock was inside of him, fucking him deep, brushing up against his prostate.

“Move, whore,” someone said, and Tim did.

Tim arched his back. The man followed, sinking his cock in deeper. The man grabbed Tim by the hips, dragging Tim over his cock again and again, pounding him hard, balls slapping loudly against Tim’s ass. That curved cock, thick and hot and deep inside Tim, brushed up repeatedly against his prostate.

The feeling was so intense that Tim barely noticed his lack of energy. Barely noticed the bruises and pain. All that existed was the intense heat and pleasure in his body.

And in this hell, he needed that. He needed that escape.

 Tim didn't want to get turned on from these men raping him. But he needed something to help him get through it. He wanted to be fucked fast and hard, each thrust driving against his prostate, if only to forget. The man held him firmly in place, arms wrapped around Tim as he drove up into him, each thrust making Tim moan. His mouth was dry from the constant groans and whines, his body hot and sweaty, his eyes rolling back as pleasure wracked through his body.

Tim’s wanton reactions seemed to exhiliate the crowd. A man reached over, pinching one of Tim’s nipples, and there was low laughter in the crowd when Tim jerked and whined in response, his chest arching into the touch. This only inspired them to tug at his other nipple.

Everything was going hazy. Tim felt out of control of his own body. His arousal grew and grew, his hard cock bouncing between his legs as he was fucked, the ruthless rhythm driven by the two loads buried inside of him. His nipples were pinched and tugged. The men who laughed and watched him didn’t bother him anymore. His mind had narrowed onto only one thought—the white hot pleasure that coursed through his body. He didn’t care, he didn’t care. He just wanted to come. He didn’t care that he was filthy, covered in their seed and sweat. He just wanted more pleasure, that sweet escape from the chaos around him that travelled with every tremor down his spine and quaking thighs. He rocked his hips back, leaning into the rhythm, trying to get the cock inside of him deeper, deeper. He moaned without abandon.

Let them watch. Let them listen. So long as they kept moving, kept fucking him, kept giving him that friction that he needed—

“Don’t let him finish.”

Tim focused his gaze, where he saw Ra’s had wrapped around the crowd. Tim didn’t follow him. On command, one of the men had wrapped a hand painfully tight around Tim’s cock. Tim gasped sharply, eyes screwing shut in pain.

“You’re not a hero anymore, just a common whore. You will not finish until you’re done servicing your betters.”

Tim was barely listening, more dreadful of the tight squeeze on his cock. He moaned pitifully. The hand finally released. Someone smacked at his balls, shock shooting up through his body. They smacked it again, the sting racing hot across his sensitive skin, making him wince and whimper.

“This bitch is making me hard again,” a man said, rubbing at his cock. Tim had already lost track of which man he was.

“Fuck him. All of you can fuck him until you’re content. But don’t let him cum until you’re finished,” Ra’s said.

Despite their excitement, the men followed their orders.

Time worked as an anomaly in that room. Any time Tim became erect, they slapped at his cock and balls or squeezed him until he was soft again. It was at those points where time seemed to drag. Tim would snap out of his haze, crying out in pain, alert long enough to wonder when it was going to be over. When it’d all be over.

Everything else was just a haze, where time moved by flittingly. Tim lost track of the men long ago. Whether he struggled against them or eagerly rocked his hips back to meet their thrusts, he reached a point where his body could no longer stay up. They fucked him upright until he kept falling over, loose like a ragdoll, exhaustion heavy in his limbs. When they realized he was slack, they laid him on the ground. When his mouth could no longer get a proper grip, when his wrists and biceps were sore and aching, they gave up on that too.

One after another, they lined up around his broken body, taking turns at his ass. He laid there, looking up at the men as they raped him. Some of them were handsome, some were ugly. Some seemed familiar, some concealed their faces, but all were strangers. Most of them he didn’t see at all. He couldn’t be bothered with remembering their faces. All he cared about was his arousal.

His body became covered in their seed. Those who were impatient took turns jerking off on his body, some sticking the tips of their cocks to his lips to feed him their seed. Most of it would miss, dripping from his face to his neck. They covered his chest and his hands and his stomach and his thighs with their seed. Tim barely noticed. The only part of of his body that his mind attached to were his untouched erection and cum-filled ass.

He should have been disgusted and ashamed. Instead, he was thoughtless. He was fucked over and over and over again, sometimes brutally. Even so, he couldn’t stop the rush of heat in his body. Couldn’t stop himself from angling his hips upwards, trying to encourage the men to fuck him at the right angle, and being brought damn-near close to tears of frustration when they wouldn’t. No matter how stretched out or used he was, he craved that full feeling inside his body, that heat and warmth. He smelled nothing but sex and sweat and the faint fragrance of tea which reminded him of Ra’s. Every one of his senses was stimulated with the thought of arousal and nothing else. When they called him names like slut or whore or harlot or cunt or bitch, he didn’t even care. He even thought it might be suiting, his body instinctively reacting to those names while forgetting his own.

Another finished unloading his seed into Tim. When he pulled out, Tim moaned softly, immediately feeling its absence. His lips moved in the shape of words, his throat too dry to get them out.

_Put it in, put it back in, fuck me—_

And then he was plugged right back up again, and that heat in his lower abdomen would stir, that craving under his skin finally satisfied.

When he got too excited, his cock growing and aching for release, the men followed Ra’s al Ghul’s orders and made sure he stayed soft—but even the stinging, frustrating punishment only made Tim that much more aware of the area between his legs.

He flitted in and out of pleasure and pain for what felt like hours. He was fucked hard, building up his arousal, then punished back into submission, before building up again. Tim wasn’t sure how many times he was prevented from climaxing, his cock throbbing with want and desire. His heartbeat had relaxed in the time that had passed, no longer frantic and afraid. A man held up Tim’s legs, who was too weak to hold them up on his own. The room felt eerily silent, quiet save for the deep grunts and heavy breaths on top of him. The man finished with a groan. It wasn’t until the long pause that followed that Tim realized something had changed.

It was over, he realized.

But it couldn't have been over.

Tim was currently in a state of pleasure. Without anything inside of him, pounding him good, fucking him—he felt restless. He moved his spread knees, pushing off the ground, hips weakly shaking and pleading for more. He ached for it, that feel of a cock deep inside of him, pounding into his used and wet hole. He could feel seed dripping down from his stretched hole in copious amounts, serving as evidence that the last passage of time had been real. It had really happened.

Tim managed to roll over. With an arm, he pushed off the ground, propping himself up. His whole body ached with pain. Still waiting there was Ra’s, only a few other people remaining in the room, sparsely spread out throughout the space. Once they made eye contact, Ra’s said a dismissive sort of tone, “I’ll have you taken care of later.”

Ra’s, satisfied, turned to leave. As Tim watched him turn his back, this strange feeling washed over Tim. It was finally over. And yet, Tim couldn’t process what had just happened.

Then heat pushed through Tim’s body. Tim looked down at himself, breathing shallowly. His entire body seemed to covered in ropes of cum. His chest and belly was sticky and wet. He could feel ejaculate leaking from his hole down to his crease and thighs. He could feel it on his face, matting some of the hair near his hairline. He didn't recognize himself. He felt separate from his own body, trapped in the frame of a stranger. And not just a stranger, but the very words that had been hurled at him—trapped in the form of a whore, a useless bitch, a used-up cunt.

And despite his humiliation and shame, his cock was still aching hard between his legs. His body was flushed with arousal. His hole felt empty without someone inside of him— _Tim_ felt empty.

“Stop,” Tim said, the word falling out of his mouth before he even realized what he had done.

This was the only time that word had carried any type of power. To Tim’s shock, Ra’s did stop.

Tim didn’t know what to say when Ra’s turned back toward him. Ra’s footsteps, normally swift and silent, now seemed loud in the otherwise empty room. Ra's approached him, his shadow falling over Tim. Tim swallowed, knowing how disgusting and filthy he looked—but with Ra's, he could still manage to look the man in the eye.

“Please,” he begged, although he wasn't sure what for. “You promised.”

Was he begging for Ra's to let him go, or begging to let him come?

Ra's stared at him for a moment.

He suddenly placed his boot on Tim’s gut, shoving him back down to the ground. Tim went down easier than a limping runt. Tim reached for Ra’s boot and stopped, seeing how his hands shook and trembled. How much time had passed? What had they done to him?

Ra’s placed his hands on his hips. The movement pushed back the green cape, revealing the dirk attached to his belt, and for a moment, Tim thought he was going to draw it. But he didn’t. Ra’s was looking at him, that familiar glow in his inhumanly green eyes. It was at that moment that Tim realized that those eyes had followed him everywhere. When Tim was being passed around the crowd, sometimes he’d look through the crowd of people, and he’d find Ra’s there. The orchestrator of this ordeal, the leader of this chaos. He’d circle around the room, watching, his eyes appearing through the darkness, standing out in the flurry of moving bodies.

No, Ra’s wasn’t going to kill him.

He was enjoying this too much.

Ra’s took a step back. Tim was freed now, but he didn’t move.

Ra’s motioned with his hands, murmuring to the guards from earlier who had managed to stick around:

“Lift him up.”

Following their master’s instructions, they knelt by Tim’s sides, no doubt kneeling in whatever mess of sweat and ejaculate that surrounded Tim. They didn’t care, they followed orders. Tim didn’t know what was going to happen next. He flinched at their touch, his skin burning hot at the contact. He wanted their hands on him, yes. He wanted to be filled up again. He was terrified of Ra’s and his unpredictability, but Tim had no choice but to let himself be controlled.

He bit down on his lip when they lifted up his legs, his ass coming off the ground.

With the serious thoughtfulness of a stage director, Ra’s considered Tim for a moment before curling a finger.

“Higher,” he instructed.

Tim was bent in half. Finally, a blush of shame reached Tim’s cheeks. From between his knees, Tim looked up at Ra’s. He knew what Ra’s was looking at—he was entirely exposed. Ra’s could see everything, from Tim’s dripping hole to his flushed erection.

Ra’s nodded his head toward some standby watcher.

“Go grab that.”

Ra’s pulled off the outer layers of his robe, trading it for the long discarded dildo from earlier. Ra’s pulled up the sleeves of his white shirt, as if he were a doctor about to touch something dirty and contaminated, and Tim felt that wave of shame once again. Ra’s looked directly at him. His dark brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed, reminding Tim of a stern look from a parent—as if Ra’s was the one, rather than Tim’s allies, to be asking, _What have you gotten yourself into now?_

The men held him in place as Ra’s slid the dildo into him. There was no resistance, but Ra’s didn’t rush. The toy slid into Tim in a smooth, fluid motion. He moaned at once, eyes rolling back with pleasure, toes curling the air. Ra’s kept it there for a moment. Tim managed to focus through his haze, eyeing the stretch of exposed flesh from Ra’s hand to his elbow. Strong and focused. Tim looked at the hand wrapped around the base of the dildo, eyeing the long digits and large knuckles. It seemed to him that this hand was the only thing separating him from what he wanted.

Tim’s expression tensed as Ra’s started to move the dildo, the thrusting even and controlled. It felt good. Tim didn’t want it to feel good, but it did. He was staring down his own cock, hanging between his legs before his face. It didn’t matter if the position was uncomfortable, making his abs burn. The thrusting felt good.

Tim gasped, his voice loud and sharp, when Ra’s wrapped his hand around Tim’s cock. It was the first time his cock had been touched in what felt like ages. The hand was rough and weathered and masculine, but Tim enjoyed the touch all the same. Seemed to crave it within seconds of having it, his body writhing with the urge to push into that grip, but locked in this uncomfortable position where he could not move.

Ra’s had to follow Tim with his hands as he writhed and trembled. He never stopped, never let up, his pace continuous. Ra’s had this intense, methodical look to his expression as he stroked Tim’s cock and fucked him with the dildo. Tim could feel pleasure building up in his lower abdomen, the entire room feeling hot. It felt good. It felt so fucking good.

Tim covered his burning face with his hands, a choked sound escaping his throat. God, it felt good. He could feel the ecstasy racing through his blood, his cock trembling as he was stroked over and over. He didn’t want it to feel good. He didn’t want Ra’s to be the one to make him finish. But he needed it. He needed it so fucking bad. He need to come.

“Grab his hands,” Ra’s said, and the guards operated like a machine, taking Tim’s wrists and pinning them next to his head, preventing him from hiding his face.

Tim looked up, their faces locked. Tim gasped and moaned, chest heaving, his legs shaking and trembling in the air. He writhed, trying to fuck into Ra’s hand, trying to get the dildo deeper inside of him, but no such luck. He was trapped on his back, his ass in the air, his arms planted into the ground. All he could do was lay there and let Ra’s take control.

Tim was so backed up that he could have came in seconds, but Ra’s wasn’t letting him. He seemed to know exactly how fast he needed to go, how much pressure he would need to apply, in order to make Tim climax—but something halted him from going past that line. Tim looked up at Ra’s, panting and gasping like an animal in heat. He whimpered with frustration, his erection aching and wanting.

He nearly sobbed when Ra’s paused.

“Please,” Tim gasped, writhing in that hand. “Oh God, please—please let me come—“

Ra's stood still, just staring down at him. Tim weakly rolled his hips upwards, trying to push into that loose grip, nearly crying with frustration. He needed to come. He needed it. Even if it was from Ra's, he didn't care, he was so beyond that point. After everything he endured, after everything they had done to his body, he just wanted to come.

“You had so much potential, detective,” Ra's murmured thoughtfully, his tone filled with disappointment. “You could have had the world in your hands—but you gave it away. And for what? Colleagues that don't respect you? For the ideals of a man whose sense of justice failed him in the end?”

“Please—"Tim was cut off by his own gasp as Ra's tightened his grip, his hand squeezing almost painfully tight. Tim was crying out, his throat sore from his shouting but he shouted anyways.

“I don't want you to beg, harlot,” Ra’s said, his voice cold but his eyes like fire. “I want you to apologize. I want you to apologize for being yet another useless being on this planet. I want you to apologize for wasting my time.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim said at once. “I’m sorry, I’m useless, I’m sorry—“

Tim’s voice crescendoed fwhen Ra’s picked up again, filling the entire room once the hand built to quick speed. The dildo plunged into Tim deep, the hand stroked him fast and good. It was perfect. Perfect. Heat rushed through Tim’s groin, shock running down his spine.

“Apologize,” Ra’s said with a growl, and Tim did. Body shaking, his climax ripping through him, he did.

Tim cried out as the first spurt of his orgasm hit him in the face. Hot seed spilled from his cock in copious amounts, the result of being denied his orgasm so many times. It coated his face, his neck, his chest, his belly.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry—"Tim said with heaving breaths, between his elongated moans and cries of pleasure, and it was in that moment that he realized he was actually crying. Fat tears ran down his cheek. It was difficult to breathe, his breath stuttering with sobs and apologies. His face was flushed and wet and filthy with his own ejaculate. He looked up at Ra's, his vision blurred. The image of those eyes, which had grown frighteningly intense, focused in and out of his gaze. Ra’s stared into Tim’s eyes as he sobbed, as if seeming to grow more powerful from Tim’s tears. “I'm sorry, oh God, I’m sorry—”

Ra’s released him and the men followed suit, dropping Tim to the ground all at once. Tim couldn’t stop. He was crying. Honest to God, crying. Big sobs of relief and gratefulness and ecstasy racked his body, his cock still trembling between his legs. He was sorry. He was sorry he was like this. He was sorry to everyone he had let down.

And the more he said it, the more he looked up at Ra’s, who stood there holding up his soiled hand as if it was proof of Tim’s failures, Tim felt it.

He felt himself apologizing to Ra’s.

 

Ra’s could hear the sounds coming from behind the demon door. They grew louder as he drew nearer. He couldn’t make out each word or breath, but he could sense the heat and excitement in their tone.

When he pushed open the doors, the men didn’t rush to stand at attention. Ra’s had dismissed them enough times that they no longer felt the impulse to stop their activities when they saw him. In an organization that was otherwise strict to the utmost degree, Ra’s had allowed this to be the one room where men could escape from their regimen and indulge themselves.

Like the men, Tim also did not react to his entrance. He was more focused on bouncing in someone’s lap, his hands and mouth occupied. The sounds that Ra’s had heard were clearer now, Tim’s voice rising above theirs, as fervent and lusty as the hips that moved back to meet those thrusts.

            Ra’s watched as a hand pulled Tim by the hair, dragging him away from the man he was sucking. His lips were red and wet, no doubt sore from serving these men throughout the day and night. Quickly, Tim’s mouth was filled again—his mouth pliantly parting before the man even pushed his way in.

Tim looked up at the man who thrusted vigorously into his mouth, eyes dazed and distant. A man pulled at the chain that linked Tim’s nipples, enough to get a low muffled moan as a reaction.

Tim’s cock was hard and leaking, bouncing between his legs every time the man fucked up into him. Tim was so wet and used that the cock slid into his hole with little effort, the unmistakable sounds of ejaculate working as lubricant filling the air.

Ra’s called on one of the men. The assassin, who was idly massaging his cock as he waited his turn, made himself decent and met with Ra’s to receive his orders. The disturbance was enough to earn a glance from Tim, but a smack to his erection put him back to work. He resumed working his mouth, his body flushed and sweaty and soiled. In a few mere seconds, he slipped back into his haze, focusing on nothing but serving these men. Ra’s was nothing more than a fleeting thought to him, a momentary distraction. All Tim was aware of was whatever was happening in the immediate moment—sucking cock, getting fucked, being touched and toyed with at others’ amusement.

Ra’s found himself bored as he watched. Tim’s humiliation had slipped away after a few days of being used as the League’s personal whore. The rush of excitement and power Ra’s had once felt had faded away as quickly as Tim’s fear.

Once Tim had started to enjoy what was being done to him, Ra’s simply didn’t find it fun to torment him anymore.

After Ra’s gave his assassin his instructions for Kahndaq, the man asked, “When should I depart?”

“You may finish up,” Ra’s said. Before the assassin could get back to what he was doing, Ra’s stopped him. “One more thing—”he nodded towards Tim”—let them have him until they're bored with him. Then get rid of him. You can take him with you, leave him somewhere, kill him, it matters not.”

Ra’s took one last glance at Tim. Tim’s hand moved quick, working on the man he was sucking off. With a groan, the man finished, his seed spilling all over Tim’s face. The head of the cock rubbed the seed over Tim’s cheek. Tim just looked up at the man, his mouth hanging dumbly open, letting the man spread the seed onto his tongue. Tim’s face was dripping, but by the dazed look in his eyes, he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

Ra’s felt a surprising spark of disappointment. The young detective had so much potential. But like all other things that Ra’s took interest in, the moment had passed, another whim had fizzled out, and nothing was immortal. Maybe in a hundred years, Ra’s would look back and remember that glorious look on Tim’s face as he apologized in defeat. Or maybe he wouldn’t remember Tim at all, like all the other people and civilizations that Ra’s had stepped over to secure his legacy.

But one thing was certain. Ra’s gazed into the emptiness of Tim’s eyes, and knew this for a fact:

Tim would always remember Ra’s.

And that was the important thing—Tim would remember, even if Ra’s didn’t.

Tim would remember Ra’s al Ghul until the day he died.

They would _all_ remember.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am no longer on tumblr but you can still find me on twitter and dreamwidth. I also run a DickDami server and a ship-friendly (taboo ships included) DC server on Discord. Message me for links (Discord is the easiest way to contact me) if you’re interested in joining.
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> Happy New Years, everyone!


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